Novel Full Chapter 380: The Young Lord Death.
Chapter 380: The Young Lord Death.
Silent.
Fast.
Cold.
The Young Lord’s pupils shrank sharply.
He did not need to turn fully to feel the intent brushing against his back.
It was too close.
Far too close.
The blood around him twisted violently, trying to form a shield, but the figure behind him was faster.
Swish!
A dark blade flashed beneath the bloody moonlight.
The Young Lord twisted his body with all his might, barely avoiding the strike aimed at his neck.
So, he thought.
Unfortunately, it was nothing but a ploy.
The real attack was targeting his body.
The blade cut through his lower back to his chest, opening a long wound that spilled fresh blood into the air.
Argh!
A suppressed groan escaped from his lips as he staggered, falling deeper into the hole.
Realizing the danger, his expression twisted in horror.
"Nooooo!" he screamed and with all his might and used the blood to elevate his body from falling deeper.
But how could the figure behind him give him the chance to recover?
Swish!
Before he could stabilize himself, the figure appeared once again. It was deadly and closer than before.
Argh!
The blade cut through his chest, opening another long wound that spilled fresh blood into the air.
Compared to the first injury, this was more ghastly.
Most of his organs were visible.
He crashed heavily into the ground, and a mouthful of blood splattered out of his mouth.
The sudden hole on the ground had vanished as if it was not there in the first place, shocking everyone watching the scene.
Ahhh! Ahhh!
The Young Lord finally understood the true horror of fighting a Necromancer like Thoren.
He did not only have a single undead servant, but many with different capabilities.
He knew he was being attacked by an undead Assassin.
He groaned loudly, blood flowing out of his mouth. He wanted to rise, but his injury was too serious.
Besides, his enemies would not give him the chance.
Before he could clear his head from the painful sensation, a figure appeared behind him.
The undead Kaien.
Looking at the figure, a look of realization appeared on his face.
Argh!
Without any fanfare, the undead Kaien plunged his dagger deep into his heart and twisted it slowly.
Urgh!
The Young Lord spasmed continuously. His face was filled with unwillingness.
He wanted to chant.
He wanted to call for his blood to save him.
He wanted to curse the Grim Reaper.
He wanted to order the Scorpion Men to tear everything apart.
He wanted to rise, fight, and prove that his blood was above the dead.
Unfortunately...
All he saw was darkness, and the light around him was being devoured at lightning speed.
Finally, there was nothing but total darkness.
Dead.
Looking at the stiff Young Lord on the ground in his pool of blood, the battleground was deathly quiet.
The Slave Trade Guild members widened their eyes in disbelief.
When they saw the massive blood tornado, they thought they had won the battle. But in a blink, the battle took a drastic turn.
"T-This..."
They swallowed hard.
Never in their wildest dreams did they ever think they were going to lose their Young Lord in this battle. Everyone could die, but they never thought their Young Lord would fall.
To them, he was not merely a leader.
He was a symbol.
A rare Blood Sorcerer.
A favored figure within the Slave Trade Guild.
A person who could turn the blood of the battlefield into a weapon and make enemies drown inside their own terror.
But now, that same person lay dead on the sand, killed before his next spell could fully form.
A couple of meters from them, the three Scorpion Men widened their eyes. Their mission was to protect this human and take control of Mantis Town.
But now....
Thud! Thud!
Suddenly, the ground trembled, waking everyone from their stupor. They turned their heads and saw the undead servants marching toward them.
For a moment, none moved.
Then...
"R-Run!" a voice screamed.
With their Young Lord dead, they would be fools to fight such a losing battle.
Swish! Swish!
From the sky, the undead Sanguine Vultures dove downward to finish their business.
Crimson shadows flashed beneath the three bloody moons.
One fleeing awakeners lost his head before he took five steps.
Another tried to roll down the dune, only for a sharp feather to pierce through his spine.
A mage raised a trembling hand to cast a defensive spell, but his arm separated from his body before his chant could leave his mouth.
Watching the humans trying to escape, the three Scorpion Men looked at each other, and their eyes blazed with fighting intent.
In the face of battle, they would never retreat.
Retreat from a human threat.
Impossible.
The two that were uninjured took the lead and charged toward the incoming undead servants while the injured one followed behind.
Bang! Bang!
Their claws slammed into the heavy shields, and sparks flew everywhere, but there was not a single dent on the shields. They would attack with their stingers.
The result was the same.
Useless.
Slowly, the ten undead shield soldiers pinned them to the center.
The Scorpion Men roared in fury.
Their claws struck again and again.
Their stingers stabbed with terrifying speed.
Their tails lashed out, trying to break the shield formation apart.
But the undead shield soldiers did not move.
Their Top Bronze Grade shields formed a heavy wall around them.
Every gap that appeared was closed immediately.
Every attempt to rush out was blocked.
Every powerful strike was absorbed, delayed, or redirected.
Swish!
Argh!
A miserable scream escaped from one of the Scorpion Men as a long wound appeared on his back. Blood spilled to the ground like a broken dam.
The undead Royalty Stonewall had struck from behind.
Its black blade vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving only a deep wound and a cold pressure that made the Scorpion Man’s shell tighten.
Argh!
Strike after strike came from all sides.
The injured Scorpion Man fell to the ground, unable to withstand the combined assault.
Dead.
The two remaining Scorpion Men’s expressions changed.
They were scared.
For the first time, their savage confidence cracked.
They had faced humans before.
They had killed awakeners before.
They had crushed beastmen from weaker clans before.
But they had never faced an enemy that pressed forward without fear, without pain, and without giving them any space to breathe.
Their attacks became frantic and savage, but it was all useless.
Argh! Argh!
The undead Garron’s butcher knife pierced into the heart of one of the Scorpion Men while the heavy broadsword from the undead Guild Captain slammed into the second Scorpion Man.
The two collapsed to the ground at the same time, never to rise again.
Dead.
For a moment, the battlefield was deathly quiet.
Corpses scattered on the ground in a ghastly sight. Those few remaining Slave Trade Guild members who thought they could escape were all killed by the undead Sanguine Vultures.
Their deaths were quite easy for the deadly assassins.
Some died without even seeing the attacker.
Some died while screaming for mercy.
Some died calling the Young Lord’s name, as if the dead Blood Sorcerer could still save them.
But the Young Lord did not answer.
The Scorpion Men did not answer.
The desert did not answer.
Only the wind moved across the dunes, carrying the smell of blood through the night.
Slowly, Thoren descended from the top of the dune.
He stared at the chaos without any change in his expression, and then the corner of his lips curled upward into a faint smile.
"Undead Summoning," he whispered.
Slowly, the three Scorpion Men rose from the ground, but not only that. The dead Young Lord rose back to his feet.